


Eyes

by PAPERHATDUDE



Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Eyes, I wrote it with a sad newmann vibe in mind but what can you do with abstract stuff am I rite, M/M, Pacific Rim Uprising, ok I put it as a relationship but its not really, the 10 year gap KILLED me guys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-20
Updated: 2018-04-20
Packaged: 2019-04-25 06:39:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14373060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PAPERHATDUDE/pseuds/PAPERHATDUDE
Summary: a short piece of pseudo-prose about newt's eyes





	Eyes

His eyes are vacant. 

You can remember how his eyes looked when you first met, bright with excitement quickly turning to rage. 

You can remember when you were first assigned to a lab together. How he had bags under his eyes from long nights of working, working, working. The intensity when you fought, screaming and cursing and trying to hurt. 

His eyes when you found him seizing on the floor that night. Rolled back so far that you could see the white underbellies, streaked with red from blood vessels bursting. 

The sparkle when you said that you’d go with him, go for him. A red circle around your eyes, both of your eyes. 

When you looked in the mirror and found traces of him ingrained into yourself, his messy handprints all over your life. 

The blurry skype calls he made from across the world when he couldn't sleep, dim light bouncing off his glasses. 

Your eyes in the mirror.

The occasional phone call.

The red circle fades. 

He mentions offhandedly that he gets lasik.

In the image of him in your head he still wears glasses. 

His pictures on the covers of magazines look nothing like him.

You go to see him up in Hong Kong but he cancels at the last minute, he forgot that he and Alice had plans. 

When he comes to the shatterdome on official business he wears sunglasses. Indoors. He dismisses you out of hand. 

You both (both!) step out of the elevator breathless and exhilarated. His glasses are cracked so he flings them aside. You smile at him, and then you hug him. 

His eyes are dark and stormy as his hand encircles your throat, saying words that he doesn't mean, that aren’t him saying it, that is not Newt. It hurts anyway, the words and your neck. 

You don't see him again until he’s strapped to a chair, choking out things that he’d never say, that aren’t what he wants, you know it, you know it’s not him. 

And his eyes are vacant.


End file.
